


Picture House Epilogue

by therese_af



Series: Picture House [2]
Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:14:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8944993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therese_af/pseuds/therese_af
Summary: Merry Christmas!Pure fluff.Please read Picture House first.





	

Even through her closed eyelids, she could tell that it was the middle of the night. The air was dark and crisp, and carried the weight of slumber. In the distance, the faintest sound of Christmas carols, and even further, the scent of pine trees. Eyes held tightly closed, she rolled on to her stomach, and stretched her arm, her hand skidding along the mattress beside her, which was cool and empty. 

"Mmmm," she mumbled through sleep. "Carol?"

She sat up in bed, eyes blinking heavy and slow, shaking off their weight. The bedroom was dark, but under the crack of the closed door, a source of distant light. She swung her legs off the bed, and scuffed her feet along the wooden floor, until they slipped into her woollen slippers. Opening the bedroom door softly and slowly, Therese poked her head into the hallway. 

The light was coming from those cascaded over the Christmas tree, and a record of carols played low. Silhouetted by the light, Carol stood, shuffling from foot to foot, with a tired sway of her hips. Therese stayed hidden in the doorway, able to watch Carol’s movements from the darkness. The dance was lazy, but with each step, her feet – wearing a matching pair of slippers to Therese’s own – tapped upon the wooden floor in a quiet rhythm that sent tingles up over Therese’s neck and over her scalp. 

She quietly padded down the hallway, and stepped up behind Carol, placing her hands around her. She rested her cheek against Carol’s back, just like she had years ago standing in the projection room of the picture house. Back then, from Carol’s lips, had fell a sound of surprise, as it was such an unexpected step, them touching in a way they had never done before. Now, from Carol’s throat, a warm rumble of “mmmm,” and a slight shift of her hips, resting against Therese’s front, in an ease that only came from years of this. Back then, wrapped around her, Therese had felt her arms rising and falling with Carol’s deep breaths, and now, her hands rested upon the body that Carol held to her chest, and the breaths she could feel were from tiny lungs. 

As they swayed together, to the instrumental tune from the record player under the window, Therese ran her nose and lips across Carol’s back, breathing in the scent of her bed shirt. Turning Carol slowly in her arms, Therese whispered, “I’ll take her. Go back to bed.”

Carol did not reply, but Therese could feel her gratitude in a thankful exhalation as they shifted, passing the infant between them. As she settled into Therese’s arms, the baby whimpered a little, and Therese ran her hand firmly along her back to settle her. Carol placed a sleepy kiss to Therese’s cheek and then the soft tapping of her feet, as she retreated to the bedroom. 

Holding her against her chest reminded Therese of when she was much younger. When Carol had first come home from the hospital with her, and they would do this dance every night – taking turns sleeping. Back then, they had been lucky if she slept for two hours at a time, and the nights felt endless. In the summer, they had kept the balcony doors open, and some nights it was only the sound of the New York traffic that would put her back to sleep. Now these nights were rare, and Therese thought of them as a gift. She was growing quickly, and Therese appreciated the moments when she needed to be held, as these moments were coming few and far between. 

As she patted and rubbed her back, which vibrated from her teething grizzling, Therese glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was just past midnight. 

“It’s Christmas, baby girl,” Therese whispered, with a kiss to the top of her blonde head. 

Legs tired and arms heavy, Therese sat down in the rocking chair, and rested the baby against her stomach as she laid back. But she only wriggled and cried out, forcing her back to her feet again. Therese often found that what worked best was a change in environment, so she turned off the record player, flicked off the Christmas lights, bringing silence and darkness to surround them. Then she picked up the heavy throw rug that sat on the grey couch, wrapped it firmly around them both, and opened the balcony doors. 

The air was harsh and made Therese’s gasp, as she stepped out into the cold. She cuddled the baby close, her breath warm against Therese’s cold skin. In just a few minutes, with the sound of the traffic below them, Therese felt steady breaths that continued without her patting and rubbing. She pulled back the blanket, to catch a glimpse of her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her tiny lips sat open, behind which Therese could see her two lone bottom teeth. In the past few weeks, her blonde hair had just grown long enough to form some curls at the back. These little blonde curls made Therese smile, and Therese had called her “little Carol,” to which Carol scoffed but smiled. 

Since those very first weeks, she had just become more and more Carol. In the beginning, Therese would see it in the smallest microexpression – the sarcastic lift of an eyebrow on a newborn infant’s face, or a curling smile which Carol insisted was only gas. Therese would cry out for Carol to “come quick and see,” but Carol could never see it in the same way as Therese. 

Now that she was growing older, and crawling about the apartment, and just recently pulling herself up on the furniture, Therese could see Carol’s stubbornness and attitude in her. It was these aspects that were so Carol that Carol struggled to cope with most. Sometimes lately when Therese would come home from class, Carol would wave a hand and say “she’s driving me crazy, you deal with her,” and go off to run herself a bath. Therese knew that she would grow in to a woman as fiery and passionate as Carol, and she imagined the two clashing and arguing through teenage years. Sometimes they almost argued like this now – even though the conversations were entirely one-sided, since one of them could only speak a few words. This is not to say that Carol was cruel. In fact, she was far from it. But she parented just like Carol would, with fire and passion. 

Now back in the warmth of the apartment, still wrapped in the blanket, Therese paced a few back and forths of the hallway, just to make sure she was fast asleep. Then, she quietly pushed open the bedroom door. 

The baby still slept in the cradle at the foot of their bed, even though, frankly, she was much too big for it. Months ago, they had moved her to her own bedroom – to her full-sized crib – but after a sleepless hour, Carol had huffed and puffed as she went across the hall to collect the fast-asleep infant. “For Christ’s sake,” Carol had said as she climbed back into bed. “Otherwise you won’t stop tossing and turning.” Although she wouldn’t say it, Therese knew Carol felt the same way, and that it wasn’t just her who couldn’t sleep without the steady breaths from the foot of their bed. 

She settled her into the cradle, hovering and patting her for a few minutes, before thinking it safe to stop. Then she slipped beneath the covers of their own bed. Carol stirred, coming up behind Therese to hold her. 

"You're freezing," Carol whispered, as her legs, which felt warm as fire, warmed her own. Then Therese felt her place a kiss to her neck, right by her ear, which warmed her all over. 

It wasn't to start anything, Therese knew. Sleep was precious and who knows how long they’d get before the next cries echoed around the bedroom. Their love making was now economical, but this brought about just as much excitement as before. And Therese knew it would keep changing as the years rolled on. Lately, they had been sharing a quiet cigarette – often the only one for the day – by an open window. They’d stand across from each other, passing the cigarette, and Carol would give her a wink as she did, just to make Therese giggle. Sometimes Therese would surprise Carol by coming into the shower with her of a morning, before leaving for class. And sometimes Carol would push Therese firmly against the kitchen bench, and they’d end up on the floor together, making Therese late for a morning lecture. Nights were mostly sleeping, and by the time evening fell, they both needed it. 

“Merry Christmas, my love,” Carol whispered into the skin behind Therese’s ear. And then sleep consumed her, with a smile still upon her lips.


End file.
